


Stolen Glances and Pretty Lies

by angelofsuburbia



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cute, Drugs, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Frerard, Happy Ending, High School, M/M, Past Abuse, Ryden, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-11 17:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5635024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelofsuburbia/pseuds/angelofsuburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan is a senior in high school, and he's about ready to be done. His year starts off with disaster, a sudden emergency causing him to miss registration. Things just get worse when he's forced to share a locker with a nerdy junior, Brendon, who is just as apprehensive about the whole situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Apathy and Urgency

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from "Camisado" by Panic! at the Disco

It isn’t my fault. But that doesn’t matter, does it?  
  
I missed registration. I missed the stupid lines, the stupid pictures, the stupid locker assignments, all because he couldn’t keep it together for _one fucking_ –  
  
Anyway. It isn’t my fault, no, but there she is. The notorious Principal Michaels, looking apologetically into my eyes from across the expanse of her disturbingly immaculate desk.  
  
“I’m sorry, Ryan, but there’s really nothing I can do.” It’s like her voice got even more annoying over the summer. Huh. I didn’t think it was possible. “All the lockers are taken already, and we’ve exceeded our yield this year. You’re just going to have to share with another student. I’ve already found a few people willing to do so.”  
  
I scoff. “Can’t you get some scrawny little freshmen to share instead? I don’t deserve this.” It isn’t my fault.  
  
“I’m sorry, Ryan.” Yeah, you already said that.  
  
I try to argue my way out of it, but of course the “school policy” and “technical procedure” is far more important than the possibility of my senior year being ruined because of my sorry excuse for a father.  
  
And that is how I end up standing in the hallway on the first day of school next to the nerdy kid I get to share a locker with.  
  
It’s only when I finally lift my gaze from his Converse and his old jeans to his face that I realize he’s been talking to me.  
  
“…so if you want you can put your stuff in first so I don’t take up too much space, not that I’m saying you’re messy or anything like that, I just mean that if you need it you can have it, because really I don’t mind carrying some of my stuff around with me, it’s really – ”  
  
“Kid, you’re gonna need to slow down,” I interrupt in a bored tone, directing my eyes away from his full lips and letting my hair create a barrier between us once again. “It’s too early for me to keep up with all that.”  
  
I brush past him all the same, shoving my backpack into our locker – good for him, the kid got the combination right – after grabbing my English textbook. I won’t be needing the rest of my books anyway. I have other plans.  
  
“See ya later, kid,” I mutter, ruffling his hair slightly and heading to my first class.  
  
English is pretty much the only reason I even bother to show up anymore. The thing is, the main problem people have with subjects like literature is the idea that there’s no concrete answer. But that’s the beauty of it, you see. There most definitely are wrong answers – no, Hamlet was not debating the costs and benefits of taking a nap – yet there exists no singular “right” answer. That’s where the creativity and emotion comes in, the endless expanse of interpretations.  
  
I sit towards the back of the classroom out of habit, nodding to Jon when he takes the desk right next to me. Jon’s been my best friend ever since freshman year when we had to take gym. I’d always hide out in the locker rooms, and write his latest essay for him while he came up with creative excuses to tell our teacher.  
  
“Hey, man,” he acknowledges me. “You heading out after this?”  
  
“Yeah, Gerard’s home today so we’re meeting up there.” Gerard is our friend Mikey’s brother. Mikey started hanging out with us earlier last year. If you can get past his chatter about the latest comic books, he’s a pretty cool kid. I spend most of my time outside of school at his place. “You coming?”  
  
Jon nods. “I have Film second period, but I’ll join you guys there.”  
  
Mr. Toro walks in, and we quiet down.  


*****

It’s not usual for Mikey to skip school with me, but it’s a special occasion of sorts. Or at least that’s what I told him.

I mean, it’s not like we’re going to miss much on the first day of school, and Mikey’s brother is hardly ever home during the day. Mikey and his brother are pretty close, so I just used that to my advantage.

“I still don’t get why you always knock,” I tell Mikey as he does exactly that. “It’s your house.”

“Well I don’t want to walk in on my brother and Frank. Gross.” Mikey shudders as he unlocks the door.

Frank is Gerard’s boyfriend. None – neither – of my friends are gay that I know of, so it’s nice to at least be able to relate to one of their brothers. He’s kind of become a brother to me, too.

The second we step inside, I breathe in the faint smell of cookies and allow myself to smile a little. I’ve always preferred it to the smell of alcohol.

“Gee!” Mikey yells in no particular direction. “I brought Ryan home!”

I hear a muffled “basement”, and we head down there. The scent that meets my nose changes swiftly from baked goods to pot. Gerard and Frank are sitting on the floor, their backs resting against the couch behind them. Frank’s head is resting familiarly on Gerard’s shoulder. It’s an overwhelmingly innocent sight, and I suddenly feel like I’m intruding despite the fact that both boys are smiling at us.

Before I can second-guess my presence, Mikey grabs my hand and pulls me to sit on the other couch, facing the television. It’s already on, playing a rerun of some crime show on low volume. Mikey starts talking right away.

“Gee, I don’t know what you were talking about because senior year sucks just the same. I haven’t even gone to all my classes yet, but that doesn’t matter if Music of all things is this _boring_. None of the others know what they’re doing!” Mikey rolls his eyes, but then looks amused and nudges my shoulder. “At least I’m not Ryan, though. He has to share a locker with this junior.”

So he’s a junior, then. I thought the kid was a sophomore at most. Mikey pays attention to these things a lot more than I do, though.

“Is he cute?” Gerard asks, grinning.

I look up. “What?”

“Oh, come on, Ryan,” Frank teases. “It’s been so long since you dated that idiot Chase, there has to be someone you have your eye on.”

I ignore his jab at my ex, shrugging. “I didn’t really notice. I just kind of avoided him I guess, but he had… Well I didn’t really notice what he looked like.”

Mikey sighs dramatically, increasing the volume on the television.

Gerard picks up a rolled joint and lights it, taking a long drag before handing it to Frank for him to do the same.

“It wouldn’t hurt, you know,” Gerard muses. “It’s your last year of high school, Ry, and you’ve only had one real relationship.”

Ten minutes into Gerard’s lecture, Mikey and I are smoking too and the three of them are playing some kind of video game. I’m not really big on video games, or weed either for that matter, but they’re both valid excuses to hide the fact that I’m just here because the alternatives are pretty shitty.

Jon meets us as scheduled, and drops onto the couch on my other side.

“Dude, you’ll never believe who I saw in Film today.” His eyes are wide, and I can tell by his expression that this is going to be one of his really drawn-out stories. “So I was sitting in the back, right? And like, our teacher is fucking crazy, man, he assigned us this project on the first goddamn day. I mean, it’s pretty much a senior class, the dude should’ve cut us some slack.” Jon pauses, stealing my joint from me and taking a drag. I don’t mind. “Ok but then, you’ll never guess, the nerdy little junior you’re sharing a locker with walks in right before class starts and sits down in a desk right at the front, right at the very front of the room.” And suddenly I’m interested. “I mean, I don’t know what you did to the poor kid, but he was carrying all his stuff with him, I swear his backpack was bigger than he was.”

“I didn’t – ”

“Long story short though, man, shit happened and now I have to make a fucking movie with your little locker buddy.”

Oh. Well.

“GET OUT OF THE WAY, GEE!”

I jump at Mikey’s sudden outburst.

Frank and Mikey are playing an RPG game of some sort but Gerard’s arms are wrapped around Frank’s waist now, which seems to be interfering a little bit.

I laugh. This is definitely far more worth my time than calculus.  


*****

I’m in trouble.

I can’t believe I was so stupid. This never happens, not to me, not ever. I lost complete track of time, and he’s going to be home early tonight to watch the game. Shit.

I try to keep my hands from shaking as I grip the steering wheel. It feels like hours before I finally pull onto my driveway, staring apprehensively at the three-floor house in front of me. There’s way more space than we’d ever need, but he can afford it. That’s his logic, anyway.

I park my car in the garage, opening the door to the house as quietly as I can before going inside. If I’m lucky, he’s already passed out from the beer.

I’m never lucky.

My father’s still awake, sitting on the settee in the living room. The living room that I have to pass to get to the first flight of stairs.

“Where were you, son?” His voice is calm, but the words are slightly slurred together all the same.

I clear my throat. “I was at Mikey’s.”

It’s like he doesn’t even hear me. “I was waiting on you to watch the game with me, but you were out… You were over at that Max’s place taking drugs again.”

“Mikey,” I mumble. “I don’t do drugs, dad.”

“Listen, son,” he continues. His eyes are pointed in my direction, yet they don’t see me. I can tell. “I don’t wanna hafta pay your bills again for whatever fuckin’ rehab center you get put into this time.”

And there’s the problem. Every single time. I’ve stopped letting his words get to me, he doesn’t even know what he’s saying most of the time. But I can’t help defending myself, I can’t.

I raise my voice the slightest amount, but it’s enough. “Maybe if you had listened to me for once in your life, you wouldn’t have paid to have me locked up in that hell.”

I don’t know how exactly it happened, I never do. But the feeling of his hand making contact with my cheek has become so familiar that my reaction is less than satisfactory.

“You’re fucking worthless!” He takes a deep breath, and then his face settles into a sick, knowing expression. “Your mother would be disappointed in you.”

There’s the real slap. He’s right. I’ve lost every hope for myself. She wanted me to go to college, my mom. She shared my dream for myself, didn’t care what I chose to study. I built up a resume, and I was so ready to be the successful son she wanted.

And then she died. I gave up. He started drowning his sorrows in whatever alcohol he could find. That’s where I was on registration. I had gotten a call from the ER, saying my father had gotten alcohol poisoning. I rushed to the hospital, and there he was, looking like he was dead. He’s the worst person I’ve had the misfortune of knowing, but he’s my father. I was scared.

But he woke up, alright. He woke up, and the first thing he said to me when he was able was that I wasn’t of any use to him there. That’s what he believes, though. He thinks I’m useless.

I’ll prove him wrong, I know I will. I can get my shit together and go to college, leave the old man behind and never say a word to him again. I’ll give him what he wants. I can do it, because I didn’t deserve this. I didn’t ask for him to ship me off like I was just a problem he needed solved, I didn’t ask to be born an idiot, I didn’t ask for my mother to die. I didn’t ask for this life.

It isn’t my fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the first chapter! I write a lot of fiction, but I've never posted any of my fan fiction anywhere, so this is pretty new. Let me know in the comments what you think! My plan is to post every Sunday from here on out if I can. Also, if any of you are interested in beta-ing for me, I would be very grateful. :)


	2. A Madness Most Discreet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from _Romeo and Juliet_ by William Shakespeare

Gerard was right.

The kid – Brendon, as I have since learned his name to be – is cute. No, he’s not cute he’s… Wow. He wears these huge red glasses sometimes, almost large enough to cover half of his face, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as adorable in my life.  
  
He’s humming quietly to himself when I get to my locker. It’s our third week of school now, and I’ve only skipped class once since the first day. I talked to my counselor last week and she said that, as long as I don’t let my grades drop too low, I have a good shot at getting into college at some place decent. Music production, she said. That could be my way in.  
  
I haven’t picked up that guitar since Mom died.  
  
“Hey, Bren.” I don’t really know why I’m at my locker. I’ve gotten into the habit of leaving all my stuff for afternoon classes in my car until my off period. The kid needs the space more than I do, anyways.  
  
Brendon jumps, turning around. “Oh! Um, hi, Ryan.” He starts rifling through his backpack. “Did you need the calculus homework again?”  
  
Okay, so the thing is, I need time to get used to this whole “good student” thing again. Because it’s really not my thing. I may or may not have forgotten to do my homework several times over the last few weeks. Lucky me, though. Brendon’s in, like, three of my classes. He’s younger than me, sure, but he’s way smarter and way more talented than I’ll probably ever be.  
  
“Uh… No, actually.” I did it for once. It may all be wrong, but I did it. Imagine that.  
  
Brendon looks confused and fuck that’s adorable. “Is there something else you needed? I don’t think we had any homework in Chemistry or French…”  
  
Oh. Right. Why am I here?  
  
I scratch at the back of my head, trying to think on my feet. “I uh… Well, I mean I thought you’d be here so… No, not that I was, like, looking for you.” Wait. “I mean I was! I just uh, I suck at French and I was… Oh, I was wondering if you could tutor me?” Damn it, where did my confidence go?  
  
But what was I supposed to say? _You’re really cute and I’m really gay, date me?_ Yeah, that would go over well for sure.  
  
Not that this was any better. Brendon just looks even more confused. “You want me to tutor you?”  
  
“C’mon, Bren, you know how terrible I am in that class. Monsieur Leblanc insults my accent on a daily basis.” I sigh dramatically. “Okay, look, I just need all the help I can get at this point. I can’t fail, not this year. I need to get out. I just need to fucking get out and this is the only way I know how.” I don’t know when my lame excuse turned into a pathetic plea, but it works and he’s nodding and yes, yes, this could be good.  
  
“I guess I could tutor you,” he muses. “I could always use more items on my resume for next year.”  
  
I’m an item on his resume now. I should be mad about this, but did I mention he’s cute? That somehow makes it okay.  
  
Brendon frowns. “I have to work on my project with Jon after school, though, so I don’t know when I’ll be available.”  
  
Perfect. “Jon?” I ask, acting surprised. “Like, Jon Walker?” Brendon nods. “He’s my best friend! You can come with us to Mikey’s house and we’ll all work over there. You and Jon can work on your project and that way I can ask you for help if I need it. It’ll work out great.”  
  
“I guess,” Brendon mumbles, sounding unsure.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, meet me outside in the parking lot and I’ll give you a ride.”  
  
I don’t know what I’m trying at here, but it’s going to work out. It’s about time something worked out.  
  


*****

Turns out Brendon likes the Ramones. I was expecting him to complain about my music in the car, but he seems to enjoy proving me wrong.

I pull into Mikey’s driveway, Jon’s car nowhere in sight. Granted he left a little while after we did, but it wasn’t like I was speeding. That much.

Locking my car, I lead Brendon to the door and knock loudly. The Ways really need to get their doorbell fixed sometime. It’s been broken for as long as I can remember.

I hear lazy footsteps from inside before Gerard opens the door and steps back to let us in. I had called ahead about Brendon, yet he still raises his eyebrows.

Brendon looks at his shoes. “Uh, hi. I’m Brendon.”

Gerard grins. “So I’ve heard.” I glare daggers at him. “I’m Gerard, Mikey’s brother. None of the guys are home yet, so just make yourself comfortable wherever.”

I take Brendon to the basement, but not before Gerard mouths a “he’s cute” at me. Yes, Gerard, I know. Way ahead of you. I hate it when he’s right.

We get downstairs, and Brendon looks incredibly out of place. He’s standing right at the bottom of the stars, his arms crossed in front of him almost defensively. Frank is asleep and sprawled out on the couch, the room in the same familiar mess it’s always in, and there he stands in his Converse with his large, innocent eyes. He’s so untainted, and that catches me off guard. I need to be careful here. I need to be really careful. What the hell am I doing?

“That’s Frank,” I introduce. “Gerard’s boyfriend.”

I try to gauge his reaction, but he gives me nothing but a nod. Damn it.

“You wear glasses,” I blurt, my words escaping my mouth before I have time to rethink them.

“Huh?” Brendon asks, snapping out of his daze.

I shrug. “I’ve seen you wear glasses before, but you aren’t wearing them right now.”

Brendon smiles shyly. “Yeah, I wear contacts sometimes.”

I don’t know why that was necessary information, but hey. Now I know. I have also quickly made it my goal to make him smile again. Anything to see his perfect little features light up like that.

I set my textbook down on the coffee table, flipping to a random page and hoping that it’s the chapter we’re on. Whoever said French was the language of love obviously didn’t have Monsieur Leblanc in high school. That man seems to think he’s teaching in a prison. He loves Brendon, though. All of our teachers do, the kid’s a fucking genius.

Jon and Mikey run down the stairs a few minutes later, and I’m thankful for the slight distraction. It was beginning to get awkward pretending to read while Brendon sat awkwardly at the other end of the couch. It almost felt like he was afraid to come closer. I should probably tell him that I’ve forgotten nearly all the French I learned during sophomore year, but that would just be embarrassing.

“Hey, dude.” Jon nods at Brendon.

“Hi,” Brendon replies, looking between the two guys.

Frank groans and turns over, throwing an arm over his eyes. I don’t really know what tires him out so much. Gerard and Frank own a record store, and it seems pretty laid back for the most part, but we’ve come home more than once to a sleeping Frank.

I wouldn’t mind doing that someday. I just need a way out of this city, though, and college is the only one I have right now.

Brendon and Jon go off to start discussing their project, and I make sure they’re out of sight before I lean back and abandon my textbook.

Mikey sits down next to me. “So… He’s tutoring you now?”

I nod.

“Okay, spill. What happened? Since when have you started caring about school again?”

“Mikey,” I start. My friends can be ridiculous sometimes, but they know when something’s up. “I can’t live like this anymore. It’s like I’m suffocating at home. My dad… I just need him out of my life. I need to make something out of myself, Mikey, I don’t want to be him and just live off of our fucking inheritance. That’s not what my mom would have wanted. I really need this.”

Mikey puts a hand on my shoulder awkwardly. I know it’s supposed to be comforting.

“You’ll make it. You deserve so much more than this.”

That’s all he says, but it’s enough. We’ve never been sappy people, really.

“I’ll leave you guys alone so you can study.” Mikey gets up to leave, and I don’t know what he’s talking about until Brendon takes Mikey’s spot.

I can see him frown as he notices I haven’t flipped the page. Crap. Brendon chuckles a little.

“You get distracted _really_ easily, huh? I was wondering how you failed your classes, because you don’t seem…” His eyes widen as he realizes what he said. So is that what the rumor is now?

“I didn’t fail all my classes!” I sigh. I don’t mean to snap at him. “Sorry. I was at a mental health center, okay? Happy?” No one knows that except for my friends and my dad. They all think I was away at some other school because of some family emergency. Well. They’re not wrong. I am the emergency.

That’s all he’s getting, though, I don’t care how cute he is. I’m not gonna go spilling my secrets to some guy I got stuck sharing a locker with.

The kid chooses his words carefully. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry or anything. I shouldn’t have assumed.” He leans over the table, flipping back to the chapter we’re apparently on. “We can start from here, maybe?”

I nod.

He tries to teach me the basics again, but my mind is so far away now and he’s not getting through. I didn’t want him to know that part of me. At least not yet.

Brendon speaks after another long silence, bringing me back to the present. He keeps his voice gentle, deliberate. “I get that it can be frustrating sometimes, but French really does make things sound prettier when it’s spoken right. There’s just so much emotion in the sounds of the words, you know?”

I scoff. “Yeah, right. Like what? Give me one example.”

Brendon thinks for a moment. I glance back at him and his eyes are on me. No, his eyes are locked onto my eyes and it’s like he sees right through me. I feel vulnerable and I don’t want it to stop.

He clears his throat. “Tu as des beaux yeux, sais tu?”

“And what does that mean?” My voice is hoarse.

The color of his face begins to resemble the blood I feel pounding through my veins.

“You have beautiful eyes, you know?” Brendon whispers, not once breaking eye contact.

“Guys!” Mikey yells from upstairs, and I didn’t realize how close we had gotten. We spring away from each other like guilty teenagers. “Guys, look what Gee got me!”

And he’s invading our little moment, out of breath and practically shaking in his shoes. Mikey launches into a long speech about the newest edition of some comic or the other that he’s currently got in a chokehold.

My eyes drift back to the boy sitting beside me. I don’t know when it happened, but I realize now that I’ve started allowing myself to hope again for the first time in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment/kudos if you liked this... I have a lot of ideas for the rest of this fic, but I want to hear what people think as well. :) I know this one was kind of short. There's more angst to come though! I also do have a really busy schedule, although I will definitely keep trying to update weekly. Follow me on Twitter @actualryro for updates or to know whenever I post.


	3. A Daydream Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from "A Daydream Away" by All Time Low

I can’t do it.  
  
The kid’s become infatuated with me. He follows me around like a puppy, which isn’t so good for Jon’s little film project. Brendon’s kind of a part of our group now, and he’s already monopolizing the majority of my time. I don’t know when he’ll figure out that I’m not as cool as he seems to think, but it did start to feel kind of nice for once.  
  
There are some idiots who were picking on him in school apparently. I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t started leaving my books in our locker again, just so I could see him more. Pathetic, right? Anyways, I can’t say I was surprised or anything. He’s simply the kind of kid who gets picked on. What I was surprised about was the accusations being tossed at him. Those idiots treat the word “gay” as some sort of poison. Normally, I wouldn’t get involved. But he was technically a friend by then, and so I was obligated to at least say something. I’m not what you’d call strong, per say, but I do have a reputation as the scary emo kid, which was good enough in this case to get them to leave Bren alone.  
  
That’s probably when it all started. It’s like he feels safe around me now. Brendon deserves better than me, though. He’s so lively and passionate, and I know I’d just be an anchor, holding us both under until we drown. I really need to keep my distance for a while, at least until my irrational feelings settle down. Every time I see him, though, it’s like I just get reminded again of what I’m missing.  
  
Take last weekend, for example. He was supposed to be filming with Jon, but that didn’t stop him from checking on me, as he called it, every couple minutes. I’m a little behind in school, sure, but I’m not stupid. That’s not why he was spending so much time around me, and we both knew it.  
  
It was always “you look nice today, Ryan” or “you’ll never believe what Ryan did in class”. He never stopped talking to begin with – at least not once he was comfortable around us – and his little crush just exacerbated that. The kid will probably do whatever I ask of him at this point.  
  
I didn’t think he had a weakness, but apparently I’m it. And that is exactly why we can never be together. I don’t want to hurt him, so I might as well keep my distance before this goes too far. I, for one, do not particularly enjoy playing with other people’s emotions, especially not those of cute brown-eyed boys.  
  
It hurts though. Fuck, it’s hard seeing his face fall every time I brush him off. I’m isolating myself again, and he looks increasingly defeated the more I succeed.  
  
Unfortunately, today is turning out to be one of the tougher days. He’s already at our locker when I walk up. I’ve been trying to get to school early to stay out of his way, but he’s obviously caught on.  
  
“Hey, Ryan.” Here we go.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
“Are you okay? You seemed kind of out of it yesterday.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Oh. Okay then. Are you going to the game after school today?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Oh. Me neither.” He shifts uncomfortably. “So, uh, we have that lab today in – ”  
  
“I should get to class,” I mumble, keeping my head down and hoping he doesn’t notice that I accidentally just started walking in the wrong direction.  
  
This sucks.

  


*****

  
Of course, avoiding the persistent being that is Brendon Urie only works for so long.

It all happens like something out of a cheesy romance movie, except without the actual romance. Chemistry, French, and Calculus are the only classes we have together, yet somehow my bad luck makes up for that.

We have a lab today, and guess who my lab partner is?

“I can’t believe we’re actually using nitric acid.” Brendon hands me a pair of safety goggles. He’s practically shaking from excitement. “I mean, yeah, I’ve used it before, but this stuff’s pretty concentrated!”

“Yeah.” It’s not quite the reaction he wanted.

Brendon frowns, sitting down again. “Okay, well… First we need to put the copper into the solution, and then I think we dilute it with water.”

I have no idea what the kid’s saying to me, but I nod anyway. And that’s when it happens.

Brendon pours the nitric acid solution into the beaker, and the tiniest drop of the liquid from hell splashes out and traces a graceful arc through air before landing on the skin of my hand.

I jerk my arm away, yelping more out of shock at the slight burning sensation than actual pain. Okay, wait, it’s getting worse. Shit. Ow.

I don’t even have time to register Brendon’s words before he’s dragging me over to the sink and forcing my afflicted hand under the running water. I’m too focused on the relief to wonder how in the world he knows his way around a lab this well when he can’t even handle pouring chemicals.

“Oh my god, Ryan, I’m so, so sorry it just kind of slipped and I wasn’t paying enough attention do you need to go to the nurse because – ”

Brendon’s drawn-out apology is interrupted by the angelic Mrs. Gilbert.

“Ryan, what are you doing? This is a lab, and if you want to slack off then you can do that outside of my classroom.”

What the hell? Does she think Brendon’s holding my hand in the sink for the thrill of it?

Brendon speaks up, turning off the faucet. “It was my bad, Mrs. Gilbert.” What did I tell you? Cheesy movie. “I accidentally got some nitric acid on Ryan’s hand, but it’s okay now. Sorry about that.”

Her scowl immediately turns into an understanding smile. “That’s wonderful of you to help him out, dear.”

I can’t believe that worked. Did everyone have a weak spot for him? I shake my head, returning to our desk and taking over so nothing else of mine gets burned. Following lab instructions can’t be that hard.

“I’m really sorry about that.” Apparently Brendon has issues taking a hint.

“Don’t sweat it.”

I add water until the solution turns a blue color. Huh. I guess I did something right. I keep to myself for the rest of the period, blocking him out almost effectively.

Half an hour and a lot of cleanup later, Brendon storms out of the room and down the hallway, taking my last piece of self-restraint with him. I don’t think I can keep this up any longer if I have to keep seeing hurt written all over his face.

I grab my backpack and head after him, down the hallway towards the doors. When I finally find him, he’s sitting on top of one of the picnic tables outside with his feet resting on the bench.

“Hey,” I say, testing the waters. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, but anything’s better than having him upset with me.

“Hey.”

I sigh. “I’m sorry, okay?”

He pauses. “For what?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Whatever you’re upset about.”

“Seriously?” He scoffs, getting up and facing me. “I’m upset because people treat me like I’m oblivious. You can’t just – ” He seems to notice our surroundings and lowers his voice. “Okay. Well. No one’s ever really paid attention to me for more than help with school or homework or something stupid like that. But now, now there’s… There’s this… Girl. Okay? There’s this girl who I thought felt something more for me maybe, but now she’s changed and she’s acting like I won’t notice what she’s doing.”

“What are you talking about, Bren?” My stomach drops. There’s a girl, is there?

He takes an exasperated breath. “Well this girl, she’s been avoiding me. There was something there and I know it wasn’t just me but he… She’s acting like nothing ever happened and she’s been so distant and honestly I don’t know if I can keep up with it anymore because it’s like no one has any trouble letting me go. I don’t matter to anyone.”

Somewhere during his run-on sentence I catch on. I realize what he’s telling me.

“Maybe she’s not letting go, though. Maybe… Maybe she doesn’t want to hurt you because that’s just what she does.” Brendon scoffs, almost too quiet for me to hear. I’m not being fair to him. “Okay, fine. Maybe she’s fallen for you too hard and too soon, and maybe she’s scared. Maybe she’s creating this distance because she knows that you’ll never feel for him – um, for her – like that.” I pause, but the kid says nothing. And just like that, I don’t know what I’m arguing anymore. “Like the way she feels for you. I mean, you can’t… Can you?”

He’s standing there, right in front of me, and isn’t that all the argument I need?

He searches my expression as if I hold the answer to the universe. I can tell the exact moment when he finds what he’s looking for, the exact thing I had been trying so damn hard to hide. It’s like a fire is lit behind those beautiful eyes. He leans forward the slightest bit, a hand resting safely on my shoulder now, a silent plea for permission. All my inhibitions leave me the minute I feel fingers slide through my hair, and I close the distance between us to press my lips to his. Just a moment, one fleeting moment, and it’s over.

I have no words.

“Wow,” Brendon breathes. He’s trying his best to hide his grin, and failing miserably.

I place a finger under his chin tentatively, letting my thumb roam across his lips to memorize the feel of them. He’s beautiful. He’ll be gone soon.

“So, does that mean…” He trails off.

I say nothing, because I don’t know what this means. He has so much power over me already, and it has every potential to be as destructive as I am to myself.

Brendon frowns. “Oh come on, it wasn’t _that_ bad. At least say something. You can’t just go on ignoring me after that.”

I shake out of it, pulling my hand back. Whatever this is, it doesn’t have to be serious. I don’t have to love him to date him, right? We can be happy until I leave for college, and then our lives will go back to the way they used to be. Just like that. Easy.

“I’m not trying to ignore you.” He rolls his eyes at me. “Well not anymore, anyway, because whatever just happened would be impossible to ignore. Just keep it between us for now, okay?”

Brendon nods. “Okay. I didn’t even know you were gay, dude.”

“Like you made it any easier on me to figure you out.” Wait. Oh crap.

“Are you saying you were trying to find out if I was gay, Ross? Eager, are we?”

I laugh. “Oh, shut up.”

The bell rings, notifying us of the end of yet another class successfully skipped.

“Oh my god, I just missed Film. Jon’s going to be pissed.” Brendon looks genuinely worried.

I personally doubt Jon will care. He’s probably ditching too, honestly.

I shrug. “I missed Calculus. It’s too hard anyway.”

Brendon smirks. “That’s what she said."

I shove him playfully and stand up as we trudge back inside. It’s hard enough to stay away in school as it is. Making me go back after kissing the cutest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on is just a whole new level of excruciating. It’s cruel and unusual punishment. I can do it though, if it means I have Brendon to look forward too. It’s been so long since I’ve had anything to look forward to, really, other than my dad being out of the house.

“See you at Mikey’s after school?” My voice sounds a little too hopeful for my liking.

Brendon smiles at me. “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is about to get really cute for a while. As always, let me know what you think!


End file.
